


Hotter Than Hell

by burntotears



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Disjointed narrative, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the past year that Dean has known Castiel from a hunter's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotter Than Hell

**Author's Note:**

> I posted a version of this a little while ago, but I took it down because I was entirely unhappy with it. It ended up that it was just too short to get the point across that I wanted to, so I have added a couple thousand words to it and now I think that it is much more cohesive and thoughtful. So I hope you enjoy _this_ version and I'm sorry to those few who read the first! *cringes*

_**month nine.**_  
Dean took a huge bite of his bacon cheeseburger just as his cell phone began to ring. Rotten fucking time, dude. "Yeah," Dean said into the receiver, smudging ketchup all over the outside of the phone. With his luck it'd probably get stuck in keys and he'd have to get a new phone.

"Dean," the hunter heard Castiel's voice say through the speaker.

"Yeah, what's up Cas?" He tried to clean the ketchup off his hands and phone with a napkin, but smeared it around more than anything else.

"How are things?" Castiel's voice sounded rigid and stilted.

Dean snorted into the phone. "Uh, Cas, seriously? You're making social calls now?"

"I feel that only contacting you when I am in need of assistance is narcissistic of me, so I wanted to do the opposite for once."

Dean was silent for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around _Castiel_ of all people, making phone calls for _pleasure_. "So are we going to gossip about boys and talk about our feelings now?"

"What feelings did you want to discuss?" Castiel asked in a confused sounding tone.

"No—just no, Cas. Seriously. You need to learn how sarcasm works."

"It is generally used in cases to mock someone or something or point out a substantial amount of irony. So you were mocking me."

"Well I just sound like a dick when you say it like that." Dean was not sure what the textbook definition of sarcasm was, but it was something that could be received good-naturedly in _his_ book.

"But sarcasm is meant to ridicule or be condescending—"

"Alright well this was fun, Cas. Let's not do it again any time soon, ok?"

"You are being sarcastic again," Castiel said pointedly and Dean could not help but laugh at the seriousness of his tone.

"Very good, dude. You're well on your way to second grade!"

"I am not attending scho—"

"Goodbye Cas," Dean said in a huff and hung up.

Social calls with an angel? Definitely not on his bucket list.

_**year one, month two.**_  
"Please. I can't—" Dean's mouth felt as dry as cotton, despite the whiskey he continued to tip back into it. When he swallowed, his throat resisted the action, flamed and scratchy, though he could not be sure if that was from the scorching alcohol or the choked tears.

"I need some help. Please." Dean didn't even consider that Castiel could hear his pleas. He wasn't talking to Cas or any of the other angels, but to the one who had evaded him all his life. The one he didn't believe in, not because he did not have faith, but because anyone who sat back and let all these things continually happen to the people he _himself_ created was not worthy of anyone's devotion or prayer.

Cas believed and Dean wanted to have that. Such utterly blind faith in someone you've never met and never seen but _know_ is looking out for you. _God_ did Dean wish he could have that light shining before him, guiding him down his path. But he didn't. He couldn't. How could anyone who had been to Hell and back (_literally_) and _seen_ the sorts of things that Dean had seen, have faith in anything at all? There was so much bad shit in the world that there was no way that good could win, if there even _was_ any good. If half the angels were self-serving bastards then what hope did humanity really have?

Dean was only vaguely aware of the wind that flapped his t-shirt against his chest—the quiet and subtle appearance of Castiel. "Have you finally found Him?" he heard the angel ask from behind his left shoulder. For a moment Dean was uncertain as to what the hell he could be referring to, but then he remembered the quiet pleas he'd made moments before.

Dean let out a bitter laugh, well aware that he was openly mocking the angel beside him. He took another swig of whiskey before replying, "If his most devoted angel who's been looking for almost six months can't find him, I doubt he's gonna poke his head in to listen to me bitch about my life."

He heard no movement next to him, but there was an attenuate exhale of breath and then, "You know what I am referring to, Dean."

Dean just shook his head and sat down on the hood of the Impala, finally sparing the angel a glance as he said, "I don't know what I believe, Cas. I don't even know what to _think_ anymore."

"You are still contemplating what Famine said to you?" Castiel asked—his face was that of someone who already knew the answer to the question he'd just posed.

Dean snorted at that, crossing one arm over his chest while the other still cradled the bottle of whiskey. "Not every day you get told that you're dead inside, is it?" Dean took another drink and offered the bottle to Cas, not really expecting him to take it.

Castiel reached out and grasped the offered bottle, however, fingers brushing over Dean's as light as feathers before he tipped it back and swallowed much more than a human would have been able to tolerate in a single swig. He handed it back to Dean, not at all fazed. "Just because he says it is so, does not mean that it is."

"It makes a hell of a lot of sense, doesn't it? I mean, all that bullshit I said about being well fed—I really didn't have any fucking clue why I wasn't hungry for anything. And then when that wrinkly old bastard said what he did…well it seems to explain things, doesn't it?" Dean hadn't really wanted to betray all these secrets to Cas, but damn him if he didn't have some magical way of _making_ Dean talk.

Castiel remained silent for some moments afterward and Dean began to think that maybe he really didn't have any hope. Maybe his soul _was_ black and empty and he was just a shell of a human being, walking around not _feeling_ anything at all. Then the angel said, "Perhaps your uncertainty is the reason your hunger did not manifest under Famine's influence. It is possible that you are unaware of what you truly hunger for and because of that, your soul had no way to substantiate to Famine's will."

Dean felt something swell inside him, something akin to appreciation for Cas for attempting to pull a glimmer of hope out of his ass just for Dean's sake. Even knowing that the angel was grasping at straws, the simple fact that he would contemplate anything to the contrary warmed Dean in a way he hadn't felt in quite a while. In fact, the last he recalled of such a feeling was with this same dorky tax accountant who didn't know how to keep himself out of other's personal spheres.

Dean didn't answer, but his face must have betrayed his true feelings because Castiel stepped forward then, placing his right hand over Dean's left shoulder where he still bore Cas' mark. Dean had felt this feeling—a sort of electric shock of comfort and caring—radiating off of Castiel before, but whenever he touched Dean's shoulder it felt like it intensified tenfold. In one touch Cas made Dean's worried mind calm, his insecurities diminish, his very body relax and curl into the touch with a craving he still hadn't made any sense of. Before he really knew what was happening, Castiel was tugging him by the shoulder up and into a hug that Dean melted into instantly. He began to clutch to Cas' shoulders like a lifeline, feeling as though if he stayed here, enveloped in the angel's warm embrace, nothing could touch him, not even himself.

Then Dean began to cry again, face burrowed into the crook of Castiel's shoulder, his entire body shaking with each choked sob. Cas did nothing more or less than hold Dean tightly and the brunette felt a fold of invisible wings cocooning him in against the angel's chest.

_**month four.**_  
Dean hummed the tune of "Back in Black" while he lathered himself generously with soap. Their recent hunt with the magicians had him feeling anxious, as though something huge was beginning and he was helpless to stop it.

Or maybe it was just an ethereal foresight into what was going to happen to him in just a few minutes. As he rinsed soapy remnants from his skin, he felt an eerie wind blow in the shower and turned to find himself face to face with the angel Castiel. The man was standing _inside_ the shower with Dean, in his full attire, trench coat included.

"_Fucking hell_, Cas! What are you doing?" Dean reached to cover his manly bits as quickly as possible, but that didn't make him feel any more comfortable. He had to resist from squealing like a girl and jumping out of the shower altogether.

"Dean, I need to speak with you," replied the angel as water from the showerhead pelted down against his coat and he stood there like a statue, obviously not even considering the ludicrousness of this situation.

"It can wait until I'm not naked, you pervert!"

"This is urgent, Dean. And I am not a—"

"Dude, I'm not arguing with you in the fucking shower! Get out of here, you freak of nature!"

Dean could swear he actually saw Cas frown at his insult, but he had to be dreaming it because what kind of psycho would get offended by someone calling him a freak when he pops into someone else's private shower time? What if he'd been _masturbating_, for Christ's sake?

Castiel nodded curtly. "I see my presence here is making you uncomfortable."

"Of course it is! I'm in the shower, you idiot! And I'm _naked_!" The redundancy of saying he was naked while in the shower did not occur to him, but in his defense, an angel was peeping on him right now so he felt his idiocy was merited.

"It is nothing I have not seen before, Dean."

Dean knew his mouth was hanging open then, because _what the hell?_ "Oh that's just fucking creepy, dude, seriously. Get out of here or I will spend the rest of my days thinking up ways to embarrass the living hell out of you."

"I cannot experience the emotion you humans refer to as embarrassment."

Dean was sufficiently flustered at this point, from anger and embarrassment and _indecency_. "Cas, I swear to God—yes, _that_ God—if you do not get the fuck out of here right now—" Dean didn't get to finish his threat because the angel finally disappeared from the shower. The brunette moved the shower curtain aside wearily to make sure Cas wasn't lurking just outside but he saw no one.

Did that angel really just admit to spying on him when he was in the buff? Oh man, that was just totally uncool.

_**month six.**_  
"Find someone else. It's not me," Dean said, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek. He felt the weight of three worlds pressing down on him, on his chest and shoulders, crushing him into himself where he found nothing but empty blackness. Torturing again…well he had tried to pretend that he had somehow compartmentalized it so that it wouldn't touch him, but he knew it wasn't really possible. The elation he'd felt when he was torturing souls in Hell; he'd felt that same feeling again, finally being able to rip Alastair a new one. Fuck, he had _really_ enjoyed doing it, despite his misgivings about the entire thing beforehand.

He had told himself countless times after being raised from Hell that he would never do it again, that he would only _help_ people like before, but there he had been, bending to Cas' wishes and torturing the man that made his time in Hell a living and breathing manifestation of what everyone thought Hell to be—but it was even worse than that. Castiel had asked him to do it and regardless of his pleas, Dean had given into the angel's request because the man had an unnatural hold over him he couldn't even _begin_ to explain.

"Dean," he heard Castiel begin, but he was no longer looking at the angel. He was trying his best not to cry openly because he'd done it so goddamn much lately you'd think he'd had his body switched with a toddler; that point was intensified by the fact that lately he really wanted to throw things at Castiel _and_ Sam _and_ Bobby and he was quite certain he'd almost stomped his foot once or twice.

Dean didn't respond to Castiel, but the angel continued, "I am sorry."

The hunter couldn't stop himself from snorting in disbelief. "For what?"

"For asking you to torture Alastair. For not thinking twice about what it would do to you."

Dean felt himself grow angry again, but in his current state he could not do much to rally against the angel. "I _told_ you what it would do. Don't throw me your pathetic sorry and expect it to get you off the hook."

Castiel shook his head and he looked weary, which wasn't something Dean was used to seeing on him. Cas was the epitome of ready for action, so this look was surprising. "No, I know that. What I am apologizing for is that I asked you to do it and as it turns out, it was for nothing. I was betrayed, as were you, and now you reap physical and mental consequences because of it. That fault rests on my shoulders and there is nothing I can do for you."

And ok, Dean was still pissed at the dude, but he could hear the remorse in Cas' voice and knowing exactly who this was, he could tell that the regret was earnest. But Cas was right—there wasn't anything the angel could do or say that would reverse the stain Dean had on his soul from his reprised role as a torturer. It was damage he had been trying to recover from for six months and now it was as if he'd just dug his way out of his grave again and had to start all over.  
That night, after Castiel had disappeared and Dean had fallen back into an uncomfortable sleep, his dreams of his torment in Hell tore at him afresh. Except not long into this rendition, the familiar realm of Hell disintegrated around him and he was wrought in a field of rolling green hills, covered with flowers and trees and such a beautifully open sky he could only gape at it in wonder.

And then Cas is there, walking toward Dean from a hill that's kind of far away until suddenly he's right in front of Dean's face and the hunter can feel the angel's breath on his cheeks.

"Uh Cas, what's—" Dean begins to ask him something, but he really isn't even sure what it is. Maybe something about why Cas is invading and changing his dreams (not that he is sorry for no longer reliving Hell) or why he is standing so damn close to him that Dean feels that uncomfortable sensation in his stomach that he always felt when Castiel stood too close to him like this.

This time feels different though, and Dean is right because Cas is no longer just staring at Dean like a mental patient but is placing a hand on the side of Dean's neck, not in a 'hey man, sorry I fucked up' gesture, but cupping the crook where Dean's neck ran into his shoulder and that is definitely not something Dean is comfortable with, yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to protest.

Apparently his silence is consent for Cas to lean forward and press his lips tentatively against Dean's. There are so many things running through Dean's head then except for what _should_ have been—_"What the fuck dude, I'm not queer!"_—and Dean finds himself kissing Castiel, closed mouthed and ninth-grade awkward. The last thing Dean ever would have expected from Cas is for him to grope him in his dreams, but for some reason this did not feel weird at all to Dean. Ok, well it feels weird because he is kind of making out with a dude right now (who apparently is not all that well-versed in making out to begin with), but other than that, it didn't really feel _wrong_ in any way and Dean has to wonder if he's had a thing for dudes all along and had just not thought about it because there were so many chicks after him.

They are beginning to ease into the kiss, Dean with his hand fisted against Cas' tie and Castiel's hand still warm against his neck, mouths opening slightly and a bit more exchange of spit than before and Dean couldn't deny to himself that yeah, he is enjoying it. But, of course, Cas pulls back unceremoniously and looks into Dean's eyes, which have taken a moment to open and really focus on Castiel's face, and says, "I'm truly sorry, Dean. I hope you can forgive me."

And then the jackass just fucking disappears and Dean is standing there, lips still tingling and the strange warmth of Castiel's hand lingering on his neck.

_**year one, month one.**_  
**Dean:** Cas, answer ur damn phone!  
**Castiel:** I can't answer right now, Dean. Would you like me to call you back when I am available?  
**Dean:** What the hell r u doin?  
**Castiel:** I'm following a lead.  
**Dean:** Just call me when ur done!

**Castiel:** I ran out of minutes, Dean. I cannot call you.  
**Dean:** Fuck! Where r u?  
**Castiel:** I am in a place unbeknownst to humans. I am in between Heaven and Earth. I do not think I could explain it in any way that you would be able to understand.  
**Dean:** Wtf? Dude just come here. Walmart in daphne, al

"I'm here," Dean heard behind him and jumped.

He turned to face the angel. "Congratulations, do you want a—" Dean's phone beeped and he opened it to find a text message from Cas. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he lifted the phone and showed it to the angel. "Dude, look. 'You'll be here momentarily.' Are you having an out of body experience?"

Then angel looked confused as he lifted his coat out slightly, gazing at the body he occupied. "I assure you I am still inside of Jimmy's body."

Dean could only groan in reply.

_** month ten.**_  
Dean started having nightmares again after Jo and Ellen died. It wasn't anything like his usual Hell dreams and that was probably what made them worse. He would wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his cheeks and his breath so ragged you'd think he'd been running a marathon rather than just thrashing around in a bed for hours.

The problem was that his dreaming started waking up Sam and while Sam was sympathetic, Dean could tell that he was getting a little irritated by his new lack of sleep. After the fifth night in a row of Dean's haunting nightmares, Dean told Sam that they should just get separate rooms for a while. Sam tried to protest in his brotherly Sammy way, but Dean insisted that he was not going to be responsible for Sam's foul mood anymore so Sam grudgingly agreed. Dean was fairly certain that his brother felt like a jackass for it and was currently emo-tripping in his motel room, but there wasn't anything Dean could really do about that.

It was 2:00 a.m. and Dean still hadn't gotten to sleep, but that was partially because he'd been trying _not_ to. He really didn't want to have those nightmares invading his head again. It was also partially due to the fact that Sam was not in the room with him, snoring at random intervals throughout the night. He never really thought about how he didn't sleep well without Sam there and he was attempting to pretend it wasn't true for the sake of his own manly ego.

Dean wasn't quite sure what compelled him to call Cas, but it was better to not think about it and just go with it. Castiel appeared a few seconds after Dean had hit the end button on his cell phone. The angel stood in the middle of the room, rigid and unmoving, making Dean feel ridiculously uncomfortable. He sat up in his bed, clad in only his boxers, and turned on the TV.

"You do not need to discuss anything?" Castiel asked, still standing in the middle of the room at the foot of Dean's hotel bed.

"No Cas. You said you weren't busy, didn't you?" Dean began to feel like he'd interrupted Castiel's search for God and if that didn't make him a total prick, he wasn't sure what did.

"I was not busy. I was watching humans."

Dean was certain that even _humans_ sat and watched other humans sometimes, but saying it that way made it sound really creepy and stalker-y. Dean decided not to remark on that and told Cas to sit down on the bed next to him because his hovering was making Dean nervous. Castiel made an aside comment about the irrationality of someone standing near one and making one nervous and Dean ignored him entirely.

They sat in silence for quite some time, watching a John Wayne classic, _The Horse Soldiers_, and Dean was certain he could hear Cas mumbling under his breath about the impossibility of certain scenes and he couldn't help but chuckle because Cas was so anal when it came to the truth.

"Where is Sam?" Castiel asked suddenly and when Dean looked at the angel, he was staring pointedly into Dean's eyes. Dean could only hold the gaze for a few moments before he began to feel scrutinized and turned his head back to the television.

"He's in another room."

"Why is that? Economically speaking that is a disadvantage, is it not?"

Dean laughed lightly. "Yeah, it costs more but Sam hasn't been able to sleep in the same room as me lately."

Cas looked worried. "The two of you are arguing again?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I've been keeping him awake at night."

Castiel seemed to understand, but asked the obvious question, "You are not sleeping well?"

"I'm having nightmares," Dean said quietly, wishing that the angel couldn't hear him—he knew that Cas could hear a whispered word from across a crowded room as clear as day, though.

"About your time spent in damnation?"

Dean shook his head slowly. For a few minutes he did not make any attempt to tell Cas what his dreams were about. The angel did not press him and he was beginning to think that Cas knew him pretty damn well now. They did not spend all that much time together either, so it was a bit of a strange concept to behold. "About Jo and Ellen," he finally answered, face still glued to the television set in a means to not have to see Castiel's face.

"I am sorry," replied the angel and even though it was a pathetically simple response, Dean actually felt the angel's remorse radiating from where he sat next to Dean on the bed.

They did not talk anymore that night and shortly after 3:15 a.m. Dean's body slumped against the headboard, his head eventually lulling until it landed on Castiel's shoulder.  
Dean dreamt of the same situation he had the last five nights before this. He was in Carthage, Missouri, facing off with Jo, Ellen and Sam in the middle of the deserted street. Next to him stood the demon named Meg, in her ridiculous high heels and dark stained mouth curved in a sneer. Sam was looking at Dean with the face of someone betrayed and Jo looked as if she might come running and swing a fist into Dean's face at any moment. Ellen was composed and unmoved as always.

Dean deferred all the talking to Meg, only watching in quiet amusement as his brother and friends realized that they were surrounded by hellhounds. Sam shot off a bullet into one of the hounds near Meg and the three of them took off running. Jo fell and had her gut ripped open by a hound before Sam had time to lift her and carry her inside a local hardware store.

Meg looked to Dean and said, "This is your bag, Dean. I'm going to Father. Make sure they are dead before you come too."

Dean nodded and watched her walk away before advancing on the store where the hellhounds were scratching and barking at the door. "Come out, come out wherever you are," Dean heard a cold voice say—it was _him_. When he received no answer he said, "Come on Sammy, you don't want to play with the puppies?"

"Fuck off, Dean!" he heard Sam scream through the door.

"No, I think I'll just wait here." And he waited. He knew they would come out of there at some point and it was only a matter of patience. Dean had that.

Eventually the hounds pawed at the door and it slipped open for them and Dean told them to wait while he advanced on the door to the store himself. When he opened it he could see nothing but Ellen with Jo slumped against her. "Oh no, did she die already? The hounds wanted to play with her some more."

Ellen said nothing in reply. She didn't even look at Dean. "Where's Sam?" Dean asked then, because his brother was nowhere in sight. Then he noticed the propane tanks on the floor in front of Ellen and barked out a laugh. "You're sacrificing yourself so he can get at Lucifer! How adorable! Alright, Ellen, I'll let you have your fun. Wouldn't want you to go through the trouble and not get the satisfaction."

Dean turned and left the store, calling for the hounds to recommence their attack, knowing fully well that the hellhounds would die alongside the hunters. Oh well.

Behind him there was a reverberated explosion and lights danced around him until he was gently shaken awake by an arm encircling his waist. He opened his eyes to take in the sight of the dingy motel room and found his cheek pressed against the button of a trench coat. Castiel had one arm wrapped around Dean's waist and another on his head, pressing it against his own chest. Dean felt himself sag into the angel's embrace and then he was crying into Cas' clothing, clutching weakly at the thigh of the angel's pant leg.

Castiel continued to rock Dean long after his sobbing had subsided and when Dean sat up, he looked into the angel's face with gratitude. The man's blue eyes bore into his own and then his hand was on Dean's cheek and he was leaning forward, pressing his lips to Dean's. The hunter was happy for the distraction and he put his all into it, practically sat in the angel's lap by the time they pulled back in heavy huffs. Castiel pushed Dean onto his back gently and began kissing the hunter's neck and shoulder, sucking lightly here and there and making Dean grow hard and happy for the reprieve from his heavy thoughts. When Castiel wrapped his warm mouth around Dean's erection, Dean had all but forgotten why he had been teary eyed to begin with.  
For the following few nights, Castiel sat at Dean's side while the hunter slept and Dean's nightmares eventually subsided.

_**year one.**_  
"Dean, we need to talk," Castiel said to him as he appeared inside of the Impala one day.

It was funny that even though Dean had never heard it before, he _knew_ that tone and exactly what it implied. This was the girly bit of Cas he had been dreading—he knew all along it was there and was basically waiting around for it to surface. Apparently that time was now.

Dean planned on being a hell of a lot more vocally opposed to this, yet now that they were there, he wasn't saying a _damned_ thing. Where the hell had his sack gone and why was it not defending him now?

"We've got some sort of relationship—"

"Hmm, let me stop you there, Cas. First, no, we do _not_ have a relationship. I am a dude and you are a dude and two _dudes_ do not have relationships with each other."

"So we are only having sexual intercourse."

"Oh God, Cas! _Oh my God!_ Please don't talk about this. You are really, really awful at it and I think it's only going to get worse the more you speak!"

"But Dean," Castiel began in that more angel-esque voice of his he didn't use quite as often now as he did before, "I care for you."

"Yeah ok. You're my friend, Cas. Friends care about each other. Not a big fucking deal." Dean would ignore anyone who mentioned the Nile river because he was totally _not_ lying to himself. Not at all.

Cas seemed to consider him seriously. "I don't think that those who are only friends participate in sexual intercourse, Dean."

"Cas. Could you _please_ stop saying sexual intercourse?"

"What do you want me to call it?"

"Sex, Cas. It's just sex." Dean could not help but feel like he was giving the sex talk to a child.

"Well Dean, I care for you and I enjoy having sex with you so I don't really think that constitutes only a friendship."

This truly was the worst conversation Dean had ever had. In fact, at this very moment, he would trade going back to Hell for having to endure any more of this conversation. It was really _that bad_.

"Cas, look. There are loads of people—and I mean _gargantuan_ amounts of people who have…interactions like this and do not define it to mean anything. It doesn't have to _be_ anything but what it is. And I am fine with that. In fact, I would prefer that." And yeah, Dean might have felt a little like a dick for saying it that way, but there was no way he could ever admit to having a _relationship_ with Cas. Dean had already crossed some lines he never thought he would have before, but this line was one that had a titanium wall built over it that could not, under any circumstances, ever be crossed. _Ever._

Dean was expecting a very girly protest from Cas on this matter, but the angel wasn't giving him any hassle at all, it seemed. He just nodded and sat back in the leather seat, looking ahead at the road as they sped down it.

"You're ok with that?" Dean asked finally, after minutes of silence in which he wondered if Cas had disappeared on him. The angel was still there though.

"If that is what you want, Dean, then I am fine with it," Castiel replied and Dean looked over and smiled at the other man, who smiled in return. Cas didn't smile a lot, but it was kind of an awesome thing to behold when he did.

_** month eleven.**_  
"I do not see why it is necessary for me to ride in the vehicle with you," Castiel was saying as he, Dean and Sam made their way to the Impala to pile in.

"Because we don't need you zapping into the area and blowing our cover, Cas. Besides, didn't you say you wanted to talk to us for reasons other than the Apocolypse?" Sam asked as Dean opened the driver side door. Dean was smirking at Castiel as Sam spoke.

Cas began to say, "But we are on our way to—"

"Look Cas," Dean said, resting his forearms across the hood of his car and looking over it at the angel, "the only free time we usually have is when we are driving from one job to another so we have to squeeze in our quality time where we can. This happens to be one of our opportune times. If you wanna join in then you gotta ride in the damn car with us. So get in and shut up already."

Cas looked as if he were stunned into silence for once, so Dean just nodded and eased his way into the car as Sam let the angel into the backseat. Dean cranked the engine and his fingers went automatically to the radio, pressing the play button for the cassette tape that was already inserted. He could only vaguely remember it as being either Kansas or AC/DC, but what filled the air of his Impala was not awesome 80's rock music, but [the worst song ever sung](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q055xrM1aIs) in the history of the world.

_Never gonna give you up,_  
never gonna let you down,  
never gonna run around and desert you…

"_Sam_," Dean said slowly and almost eerily calm, his hands gripping tighter and tighter around the steering wheel. He turned his head so that he was facing his brother who was sporting the biggest shit-eating grin Dean had ever seen. Dean's nostrils flared as he continued, "I know that you did _not_ just Rickroll me in my own fucking car!"

Sam did not flinch nor did he stop smiling. In fact, as he said, "Oh yes, Dean. I definitely did. _And_ I succeeded in having someone else here to witness the entire thing." He diffused into a fit of laughter.

Then Castiel piped up, "What is going on? Why are you so angry, Dean?"

Dean didn't have a chance to answer because Sam said, "Dean is angry because he's just been humiliated and does not want to admit to it."

Sam was right, not that Dean would say so. He kept his hands gripped around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He breathed in and out slowly and tried to keep calm, because he was fairly certain that if he didn't, he'd try and strangle his only baby brother. And really, he'd totally deserve it.

_We've known each other for so long_  
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it  
Inside we both know what's been going on…

It wasn't until now that Dean realized that that stupid fucking song was still playing. He hit the eject button on the tape deck and was going to chuck the tape out of the window, but instead opened his door and threw it on the ground and began stomping on the tape until he could obliterate it into a million pieces to never be recognized as a cassette tape again. No more would anyone have to endure such humiliation and ridicule. Though if he were honest with himself, that damage had already been dealt.

Dean vaguely heard Cas asking, "But what was humiliating?"

Sam was now attempting to explain to the angel the finer points of the Rickroll and it was obvious the angel did not comprehend it at all. Which was all the better for Dean, because Sam might have gotten himself a witness, but he'd picked a pretty shitty one. Castiel couldn't even understand what had happened much less repeat it to someone else.

When Dean was certain the cassette tape had paid for its crimes against humanity, he climbed back into the Impala. Sam smirked at him. "That's for ripping out my iPod jack. Payback's a bitch, ain't it, Dean?"

"I hate you," came Dean's lame reply. If he could, Dean would have melted into his beautiful car's drivers seat and never come up for air again. But he would not give up—he would repay his brother the favor and when he did, Sam would be very, very sorry to have defiled Dean's baby with such a disgusting ear sore.

_** month one.**_  
Dean left the warehouse then because if he didn't, he wasn't quite sure what he'd do. Kill Ruby, kick Sam's ass, yell, cry…these were all things that he didn't really want to do—sans killing Ruby, because of course he wouldn't give a flying fuck about doing that, no matter what _relationship_ Sam had with her now. Despite all Dean's feelings about Sam's freaky power, the thing that bothered him most was that Sam was meeting up with a _demon_ and doing weird things with her—all behind Dean's back.

He'd been gone for _four_ months! Well, four for Sam, and the idiot just goes supernatural on him? Yeah ok so neither of them thought Dean was coming back, but even still, he goes and teams up with a demon? Ruby! What the fuck?

Dean knew better than to be driving like this, but he certainly wasn't going to stick around for Sam's attempt at an explanation. He had to clear his head and he did that best alone, far away from the world and all the people in it. After fifteen minutes of aimless driving Dean pulled over on the side of the road where an old, broken down gas station once stood. He pulled a beer from the trunk and lifted himself onto the closed lid, looking out at the expanse of dark road leading east and west of him.

"Alright so, what now?" he asked no one in particular, though inside his head he said, _I have to kill my own brother?_ No, that wasn't right. It hadn't gotten to that point yet, had it? He just needed to smack his brother upside the head and make him wake up and smell the roses: Dean was back from Hell, Ruby was a _fucking demon_, the angels were here and Sam had to kick his new habit and start hunting like a normal person again.

Dean could not deny the fact that the man Sam had exercised had walked away. Alive. That was a good thing, wasn't it? That didn't change the fact that it made Dean's skin crawl to see it. Cas was right. This was dangerous, no matter how much control Sam thought he had over it. No one dealt in these sorts of things and came out on top. No one.

Dean practically fell off the trunk of the Impala when Castiel appeared in front of him. "What the hell, man?" Dean cried uselessly. He'd spilled his beer on the trunk lid and it was now leaking in between the seems and probably dripping all over his guns in the trunk. _Fantastic._ He opened the lid and found that everything was ok inside, then asked, "What?"

"You saw Sam?" the angel asked and Dean turned to face him then.

"Yes, I did. Are you here to gloat? Want a medal for being right about him?" Dean definitely wasn't bitter that a random dude with wings had told him what was up with his brother. Not at all.

"Dean just because I am right about something like this does not mean I am happy to be so."

"Alright then what the hell _do_ you want, Cas?"

Dean looked the angel in the face and he saw something strange flicker across his features before the man went rigid again. "I wanted to see how you were fairing."

The hunter scoffed. "For someone who's not here to perch on my shoulder you sure as hell are spending a lot of time around me, aren't you? Why do you care how I'm _fairing_, so long as you and your winged buddies get what you want?"

"_They_ don't care," Castiel replied and Dean quirked an eyebrow at the emphasis.

"Oh, so you're gay for me now then?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Never mind. Dude, just leave me alone. I've never needed your help before and I don't need you now. Go find your stupid seals and leave my brother to me." Dean downed the rest of the beer that hadn't spilled at Castiel's arrival.

"Be sure that you take care of it, Dean. I cannot say what may happen if you do not."

Dean was _seconds_ away from losing his cool and swinging at the dick, but he found it an opportune moment to disappear. If only Dean knew how to do that, then he wouldn't have to go back to the motel and face Sam.

_** month seven.**_  
Dean's never stayed in one place for very long so he never ran into the same people that often. That went especially for the girls he'd fooled around with (at varying degrees), so he was entirely unacquainted with this ridiculous awkward feeling people apparently got whenever they'd messed around with someone they hadn't meant to and now had to see them on a regular basis.

Except that Dean had made out with Cas in a dream, so did that actually count? Apparently his bizarre brain counted it because he couldn't stop fidgeting like a five year old every time he was around Castiel now. Obviously Cas was no help in this since he still had the tendency to stand so close to Dean when he spoke with him that he was breathing all over Dean's face and the hunter found those lips increasingly more distracting the more he thought about them.

Which he didn't. He wasn't thinking about Cas at all. Seriously, all he thought about that dream for was to remember how Castiel had completely gotten the wrong idea about him. He was _not_ gay. And he did _not_ wanna jump an angel.

Dean had to suppress a whimper when he saw Sam leaving the room. The last thing he needed right now was to be alone with Cas. Nothing good would come of this and really, just how awkward could two people get around each other anyway?

He learned that asking the question was pointless, because they could get very, very awkward indeed. Dean was still shifting around and any time he heard movement from Castiel's end of the room, he practically jumped out of his seat. The angel was as oblivious as ever so that didn't help Dean's case any. This was totally uncool.

"Cas," Dean said, without any idea as to what the hell he was actually going to say to the man.

So when Castiel answered, "What Dean?" over the edge of the book he was reading through for Sam and Dean's current job, Dean had nothing to reply with. He just sat there and stared at the angel while his eyes scanned across the pages, too quickly for any human to manage. Dean never expected Cas to actually look up at him, but he did and he caught Dean staring at him, which caused all too much discomfort for him.

"Dean?" Cas asked him, holding his gaze and somehow making it impossible for Dean to release it.

Dean stood up, though he didn't break gaze with the other man. Castiel slowly stood as well, setting the book down on the table and walking slowly toward where Dean stood in place, nervous as a virgin. _Oh God, don't come over here_, he thought feebly, but Cas was far past the point where he was going to stop his advance.

And then there he was, standing inches from Dean's face once again and for someone who was a virgin himself, Cas seemed to be able to read what was going on in Dean's mind. Oh wait, could he _do_ that? There wasn't much thought running through the hunter's mind after that because Castiel pressed his lips against Dean's for the first time (in reality) and it was as though they were picking up where they'd left off in the dream.

_** month five.**_  
"I am back with the food," Dean heard Castiel announce upon appearing inside of their motel room.

"Oh shit'yeah! Did you get the pie?" Dean perked up and practically assaulted the food out of the angel's hands.

"Yes, I remembered the pie, Dean."

The hunter looked at Castiel with a pathetic, almost swooning look. "Cas, I am _so_ replacing Sam with you."

"Thanks Dean," Sam chimed from his spot behind the laptop screen. "I love you too."

"I can't take Sam's place, Dean," the angel was saying though Dean was barely listening to him. He was already shoving a cheeseburger into his mouth.

"Eh, Sammy won't mind. He's always been wondering what Heaven was like anyway. Right Sam?"

"Yeah, sure Dean," replied the taller brother and it was obvious that Sam wasn't paying Dean any attention either.

"Sam's body would dematerialize if he tried to enter Heaven."

"Wouldn't put him any worse off than he is now! Look at him!"

Sam _did_ look up then. "Listen, short stack, I'm tired of you calling me ugly. I am _not_ unattractive."

"Well, there are _some_ chicks out there that haven't got any taste, I guess."

"Shut up, dickface," Sam replied then.

Dean looked at Cas as if the angel was going to back him up on this. "Did you hear that? Do you hear how he talks to me?"

"You call him 'bitch' all the time, Dean," Castiel pointed out.

"That's because he _is_ a little bitch. Well, a freakishly tall bitch, but a bitch none-the-less."

"Maybe that means you are a dickface, then." Cas had decided to try and be helpful. Dean rather wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Sam thought that was hi_fucking_larious because he started pointing and laughing at Dean like a jackass.

"Jackass," Dean spouted for good measure. "I change my mind, Cas. You can stay where you are. You're no help at all."

"But I remembered the pie," Castiel said.

_**year one, month three.**_  
As odd as it might sound, it was Cas that always initiated their interaction unless Dean was beyond inebriated and bordering on alcohol poisoning. There had been the time when Dean had come back to the motel room piss drunk and started groping the angel while Sam lay unconscious on the other bed. Needless to say, Dean still got some, though Castiel had done something to keep Sam from hearing.

Anyway, the fact of the matter was that Dean was chicken shit when it came to trying to be intimate in any way so it was usually Castiel that started everything. Not tonight though. Tonight, after Sam had left to go through old newspaper archives in the local library, Dean was finally able to touch Cas like he'd been itching to do since the man first arrived in the motel room.

He should not have been surprised to see the look of shock on Castiel's face when Dean shoved him roughly against the back of the door and started to accost the angel's mouth. Castiel began to respond after a few moments of hesitation and Dean was happy to see that he was into this as much as Dean was—until Castiel turned the tables on him and he groaned as his back collided with the wood of the door, which shook in the frame from the force of the blow. Castiel was stronger than Dean was and if he tried he could send Dean flying sky high if he wasn't careful, but the angel was always careful, albeit a bit more rough than most would be. This would be one of those occasions, but despite the stinging pain that ran up and down his spine, Dean was sufficiently turned on.

Castiel had his hands everywhere, it felt like; this man had gotten adept at sex faster than Dean thought was even possible. Not only that, but Cas was a master at making Dean turn into a gibbering lust-filled lunatic with a flick of the wrist and that was completely unfair. This was definitely one of those times. Castiel had his right hand wrapped around Dean's body, squeezing the hunter's ass firmly, pulling him flush against himself so that their midsections rubbed together almost painfully.

Dean whimpered (_fucking whimpered!_) into Cas' hair as the other man was licking and biting at the hunter's neck. No matter how many times Castiel took Dean the way he wanted him, the hunter still remained unsurpassingly horny for Castiel's dominance over him. Kind of weird, Dean knew, but he could not help but be turned on by an angel, who was so damn pure he couldn't even _lie_ to people, throwing him onto a bed and speaking disgustingly filthy things into Dean's ear. It was not until he was with Cas that he found that he had a particularly kinky side he had been previously unaware of.

After so long, sex had become a sort of routine for Dean after all he'd gone through. The last time he had sex and actually took pleasure in it (before Cas) was with Anna. So when Sam had confronted him about not wanting to spread his seed on Valentine's Day, he shouldn't have been entirely surprised. He couldn't really explain to Sam what he felt because he didn't know that himself, but he suspected it had something to do with all his time with Castiel. When the two of them had first started fooling around, Dean still went out to bars and had sex with random women to pretend that he was completely straight and was just doing Castiel some sort of favor by sleeping with him. But when he did not even feel a need to scam on lonely chicks on Valentine's Day, he began to see that Cas was turning him into a pillow biter without him even really knowing it.

That was why today, Dean had decided he would take matters into his own hands. If he was going to continually fuck an angel like this, he'd at least get in a sense of control somewhere in there. Except that never ended up happening and it wasn't happening today either. Trust Cas to destroy Dean's illusion of ascendency and furthermore, to make him not really miss it once it was gone. Castiel had Dean on his back on the bed within minutes and Dean decided that he could at least take solace in the fact that Castiel was still completely useless at lying to people.

It was a pathetic reach for sanity, but Dean held it firmly until Castiel made him forget how to think entirely.

-fin-


End file.
